


'tis the damn season

by burnthiscityxx



Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28170735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnthiscityxx/pseuds/burnthiscityxx
Summary: Nini and Ricky come back home for Christmas and call it even.
Relationships: Ricky Bowen & Nini Salazar-Roberts, Ricky Bowen/Nini Salazar-Roberts
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43





	'tis the damn season

**Author's Note:**

> So...Taylor Swift released another album and this song has been on repeat and then this Ricky/Nini oneshot started playing out in my head like a goddamn MOVIE.
> 
> I wrote this really quickly and it's kind of angsty (my favorite! :P), but hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know what you think :)

_If I wanted to know_  
 _Who you were hanging with_  
 _While I was gone, I would've asked you_  
 _It's the kind of cold_  
 _Fogs up windshield glass_  
 _But I felt it when I passed you_  
 _There's an ache in you_  
 _Put there by the ache in me_  
 _But if it's all the same to you_  
 _It's the same to me..._  
  
 _So we could call it even_  
 _You could call me "babe" for the weekend_  
 _'Tis the damn season, write this down_  
 _I'm staying at my parents' house_  
 _And the road not taken looks real good now_  
 _And it always leads to you and my hometown..._  
  
She throws the rental car into park and scrambles out, takes a deep breath of that familiar, fresh air that makes everything better and brighter. It’s a stark contrast to where she was, just yesterday in sunny California, but it feels good to be back here, on the same streets and sidewalks she’s known since she was born. It’s Christmas time in Salt Lake City and it’s the first time she’s been back since she started college out in Los Angeles – everything feels different and the same and she’s trying to find a good balance between the two, but it’s hard.   
  
When she enters the small coffee shop that’s tucked into the street corner though, everything is exactly the same. The barista, her coffee order, even the music playing from the shop’s speakers is an old Spotify playlist they use every year. She finds a spot near the window, her legs dangling from a high chair, and warms her hands around her mug of coffee, letting her gaze follow the steady stream of people outside, rushing to finish their Christmas shopping. There are a few familiar faces – mostly her parents’ friends or someone from a different graduating class, but none of them belong to anybody she really wants to see.   
  
She doesn’t want to think about _that_ , though.   
  
The truth is, when Nini moved out to Los Angeles for college, it took her six months before she decided to get back in touch with any of her high school friends again. Kourtney was the easiest and understood it immediately, that she had to cut all ties for a little bit so she could get used to a whole new environment. Everybody else eventually came around, although it was hard to tell, especially with –   
  
“Ricky.”   
  
His name hasn’t passed her lips in years, but it comes out in one fell swoop, like it never left, because he’s right there, crossing the street, wind tugging at his curls escaping from his beanie, the snow falling around him like some sort of Hallmark Christmas movie. He’s still infuriatingly handsome, all lean and lithe, and Nini’s heart jumps into her throat. She lets herself get lost in memories she thought were buried and they’re still just as vivid - images of Ricky teaching her how to skateboard, of ukuleles and guitars and handwritten songs, of dog tag necklaces and ice cream dates.   
  
The bell above the door to the coffee shop rings and she pulls out of her flashback, head turning to see who entered and he’s there, in the flesh, close enough that she can see his bright pink cheeks, his bright eyes, the way he bounces from one foot to the other while he’s waiting to order. It’s visceral, the ache that’s in her heart now, seeing him after so long, and she wonders if he feels it too, somewhere deep down. And then it’s like he’s reading her mind, because he turns and spots her - fast enough that she can’t duck or turn away. Instead, she gives him a small wave, the corners of her mouth lifting into a smile, and then he’s suddenly walking towards her with a to-go cup of coffee - _a latte with oat milk and an extra shot of espresso._  
  
But before she can even begin to unpack why she still remembers that, they’re face to face, like a year and a half hasn’t passed between them, like the last time they saw each other they weren’t screaming and crying and falling apart.   
  
“Hi, Nini,”   
  
His voice is different, rougher and deeper, and he’s got one hand shoved into his pocket - a tell-tale sign that he’s nervous - and Nini doesn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes because she doesn’t know if she can handle that. It’s too big, too much, too real.   
  
“Ricky,” she breathes his name out and there’s a part of her that wonders if she subconsciously asked Kourtney to meet up at this coffee shop in hopes that they’d run into each other, wonders if she likes tempting fate that way.   
  
He sits next to her, body angled slightly away, and asks her how she is. They fall into a conversation and it isn’t easy at all - how could it be, when the last time they spoke it was a painfully drawn out goodbye? They’re both on edge and Nini keeps her walls up, because this is Ricky Bowen. The one person who knows her better than she knows herself, the one person who she would have given everything up for. They talk about nothing at all, at first. How long they’re in town, how school is, how cold winter is this year.   
  
And then he’s asking her about who she keeps in touch with, before telling her that EJ still sees him every once in a while, sometimes with Gina alongside him, and it makes Nini a little uncomfortable. Because of course Ricky would be open and inviting and not have to worry about a transition period between high school and college. Part of her thinks he’s saying it as a backhanded insult to her - _look how your ex-boyfriends can keep in touch and you had to cut ties with everyone to enjoy your new life_ \- but she’s really trying not to unpack all of that now.   
  
“Are you staying at your dad’s?” she asks him - it’s a safe question and she wants to change the subject desperately, doesn’t want to think about meshing her Salt Lake City life with her Los Angeles life at all.   
  
“Yeah - you know Miss Jenn moved in last month? They’re getting pretty serious,” Ricky smirks and Nini wants to fall apart right then and there. “You’re staying at your moms’?”   
  
“Yup,” she says quietly.   
  
And then she can feel Ricky’s eyes on her, searching for something that used to be there and she knows how this would have been handled back when they were sixteen - he would’ve reached out, traced a finger down her cheek, kissed the worries away, and the world would become infinitely better. But they’re not sixteen anymore.   
  
“Hey, so...Miss Jenn and my dad, they’re having this early Christmas brunch thing tomorrow. If you want to come. And bring along your moms, too,” he says it quickly, in one breath, and Nini’s heart skips a beat.   
  
She lifts her head to meet his gaze and reaches out first, because in the back of her mind, Nini knows this is how it goes. She puts a hand over his and everything comes flooding back - the cool silver of his ring against her open palm, the calluses on his fingertips from hours and hours of guitar playing. She sees it in his eyes, an ache and an understanding, and she wonders… 

* * *

_I parked my car_  
 _Right between the Methodist and the school that used to be ours_  
 _The holidays linger like bad perfume_  
 _You can run but only so far_  
 _I escaped it too_  
 _Remember how you watched me leave_  
 _But if it's okay with you_  
 _It's okay with me..._  
  
Four days later, the night sky is twinkling with stars and she’s leaning against her car door, hands wrapped around a Thermos of hot chocolate. It’s far too late to be doing this, she knows that, but it’s also inevitable - meeting in the East High parking lot, where so much of their history has taken place. Nini checks her phone - midnight - and when she looks back up, there’s a car pulling into the spot across from her. He gets out, curls already messy, with a blanket underneath his arm. It takes him seconds to cross the parking lot and he gives her a quick hug and she falls into him, because it’s easy that way.   
  
“Let’s go,” he whispers, tucks her into his side and they’re off, heading straight into the high school that used to be theirs. The key to the front doors is still in the old hiding spot and Ricky leads them through the dark hallways using the light from his phone. When they reach the old theater room, he runs his fingers across the top of the doorframe, finds the key, and then they’re back to where they started - facing each other, daring the other to make the first move.   
  
Nini can almost hear the sounds of high school ghosts in these walls, the easy way they used to joke and laugh and sing. It’s overwhelming, she thinks, being back here again. Ricky lays down the blanket and sits, patting the space next to him and it’s all so familiar and easy.  
  
“This is insane,” she murmurs, sitting down and crossing her legs. She hands him the hot chocolate and they’re quiet for a minute, taking in all the memories that come with being in this room. “Look, they still have our old microphones,” Nini points out.   
  
“It doesn’t look like a lot’s changed,” Ricky says, then clears his throat. “Except us, that is,”   
  
Nini takes a deep breath and exhales, because she knows this is the elephant in the room - the saga of Ricky and Nini. She turns to look at him, for what seems like the very first time again, and he’s close enough that she can see his eyelashes, can hear his heart beating. There’s a worry running across his forehead and she knows he’s just as nervous as she is.   
  
There’s a year and a half of unsaid conversations between them, a year and a half of confusion, misunderstanding, and crossed lines. She remembers how they left each other, it comes back to her in flashes, and she wishes it had been civil, but it wasn’t. Nini had wanted to make things work long distance. Ricky had never gotten over the fact that she had applied to colleges on the West coast without telling him. It all fell apart and she had left, with a broken heart and a determination to forget everything about Salt Lake, East High, and the boy who had meant everything.   
  
But now, sitting across from him in their old rehearsal room, Nini can’t remember why she was so hell-bent on forgetting Ricky Bowen. He still has her heart in the palm of his hand and their memories together linger in this room - singing together, piano and guitar lessons, sneaking out from their study halls to make out in the broom closet when they were seniors. It’s all here and the memories still cut like a knife, but Nini wants to bleed again, to feel _something_ again.   
  
He inches a little closer and reaches out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. And then Ricky's tracing the outline of her cheek, her jawline, and she takes a breath, like she’s about to jump in, before closing the gap, kissing him, _finally, again_. Nini can feel him grinning against her mouth and she shoves his shoulder a little, but then his hand is grasped around her wrist and he topples back, bringing her with him, it happens so fast.  
  
It feels exactly like it did in high school, but different - _better._ She notices he’s not as awkward anymore, quietly confident with his hands and where he places them, gripping her waist and intertwining their fingers together. His lips make expert work of her own, trailing down to her neck and Nini loses herself to it all, knowing they’re both making up for lost time, chasing each other like a temporary high.

* * *

 _Time flies_  
 _Messy as the mud on your truck tires_  
 _Now I'm missing your smile, hear me out_  
 _We could just ride around_  
 _And the road not taken looks real good now_  
 _And it always leads to you and my hometown..._  
  
 _Sleep in half the day_  
 _Just for old times' sake_  
 _I won't ask you to wait_  
 _If you don't ask me to stay_  
 _So I'll go back to LA_  
 _And the so-called friends who'll write books about me if I ever make it_  
 _And wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm faking_  
 _And the heart I know I'm breaking is my own_  
 _To leave the warmest bed I've ever known..._  
  
Ricky picks her up in the same truck he’s had since high school and she’s back in the passenger seat, like no time has passed - they drive down the same familiar roads, listen to the same songs, and there’s a light in Nini that she recognizes as one that is always, always connected to Ricky. They drive out into the countryside and up into the mountains, visiting all their old spots, there are rest stops and diners and late nights spent at some viewpoint, both of them in the truck bed tangled up in one another.   
  
They’re on Nini’s couch one night, her moms out for dinner and a movie, the television playing a rerun of an old Friends episode. The living room is glowing from the light of a dozen candles, two half-eaten pizzas on the coffee table, and Ricky is hovering over her, his curls tickling her cheek as he kisses her neck. It’s everything all at once and then he’s suddenly pulling away and she follows him, the absence of his body jarring her.   
  
“What’s wrong?”   
  
Ricky takes a deep breath, exhales, runs a hand through his hair, and Nini already knows what’s coming. It’s at the tip of their tongues every time they see each other now, the idea that they’re both in separate places in their lives, that they’re not together or apart. “I leave at the end of the week, back to Chicago,” he says.   
  
“And I go back to LA,”   
  
“And then what? We just...cut each other out of our lives again? Forget this Christmas break ever happened?”   
  
Nini wants to say yes, knows that if she could just forget about Ricky Bowen and how he makes her feel, maybe she’ll be able to come to some sort of a conclusion that would make her happy. But neither option sounds good right now - leave Ricky behind or bring him with her.   
  
“I can’t forget us, Nini,” he says then, turns to face her and links his fingers with hers. “I don’t want to,”   
  
“I don’t want to either,” she whispers and she knows that’s true, at least. “But this...you’re in Chicago and I’m in LA. And it won’t work - we can’t make it work,”   
  
“Why? A year and a half ago, you told me you were willing to do long-distance. What changed?”   
  
This time, Nini is the one that takes a deep breath and exhales. She sniffles, lifts her head up, and gives him a soft smile. “We’re both so stubborn, Ricky. And we’re both so young, still. We’re going to end up resenting each other,”   
  
“You don’t know that. I could never resent you,” he reaches out, traces her jawline with his callused finger and Nini tries her hardest to keep the memories at bay.   
  
“You could. You will,” she murmurs. “I don’t want us to not know who we are without each other. We’re so comfortable, Ricky. These past few weeks with you...it’s been wonderful and easy and familiar and maybe that’s a good thing, I guess. I know that’s what love is. But we owe it to ourselves to live and grow and be without each other for a while…”   
  
Ricky’s eyebrows furrow and he leans back, bringing her with him, so she’s leaning on his chest. “You’re _infuriating_ ,” he mutters, the corners of his lips lifting into a smirk and she laughs then, because it all seems too perfect. “I’m not going to beg you to stay, you know,”   
  
“And I won’t ask you to wait,” Nini takes his hand, pressing a kiss to his open palm.   
  
They’re quiet for several minutes and some of the candles flicker out, the living room dimming. The snow is still falling outside, their hometown still unchanged, but inside, Nini knows things are going to be different. It’s painful and messy and they’ll always find their way back to each other - but she feels safe.   
  
Here, laying against Ricky, his fingers trailing up and down her back and twisting in her hair, and her pressing her lips against his jawline, she knows there’s an understanding between them, connected by the string of a first love and a first heartbreak - here is where they call it even.  
  
 _We could call it even_  
 _Even though I'm leaving_  
 _And I'll be yours for the weekend_  
 _'Tis the damn season..._


End file.
